Affirmation of Life
by Ms.Nom de Plume
Summary: Draco and Hermione share a touching postbattle moment ... but only a moment.


Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, I just borrow and manipulate! I leave the actual plotting up to J.K.

* * *

Hermione had just slipped out of the raucous celebrations going on within the house behind her. Quickly sprinting through the mists that covered the dewy grass, she soon made her way outside the wards and apparated.

* * *

With a Crack she appeared in a small 3 room flat in the heart of London. Slowly walking up behind the sleeping wizard in the plush chair in front of her, she discarded her cloak and laid it on the couch. Placing her hands over his eyes smoothly, she announced her presence in the room, startling him slightly.

He immediately jumped out of his chair and tackled her to the ground; years of both Quidditch and war training had honed his instincts to the point of animalistic. She had however responded with her own training, ensuring that he wasn't in complete control, with her knee caressing his groin menacingly.

"Shhhh love, it's only me – I just got away from the party."

"Great Merlin woman! You know better than to sneak up behind me! Who knows what I could've done to you."

"Oh pshaw, you wouldn't have done any such thing – that's why I love my Slytherin … brains then brawn is your method. Thank Merlin it has all paid off"

She smiled up sneakily at the blond wizard poised powerfully above her. She loved his hair that was still slightly skewed from sleep and his steel gray eyes, alert for any possible outcome. His muscles were lightly flexed to keep most of his weight off of her. Finally she could rejoice fully in what they had. Finally she could allow herself to believe in a happy ending.

"We did it Draco. We did it."

She started sobbing in relief for being alive, mourning for all those who had been lost in the cause, and happiness that she was finally with her love – so many emotions that had been running through her body since the Final Battle betwixt Harry and Voldemort only that morning.

He cradled her body to his, changing positions so that she was on his lap enfolded to his chest. He rested his chin on her hair, rejoicing in the smell that was eminently her and reflecting upon all that they had won that very morn.

They both reflected upon the scene of Harry standing, battle-worn, in between Ron and Hermione, flanked again by Ginny and Draco, just in front of Voldemort, abandoned by quickly fleeing Death Eaters, too scared to stay at their posts. Voldemort, weakened by the loss of his Horcruxes, had shrunken to a tiny, wrinkled, ghost of even his returned self. Harry, raising his wand along with the rest of the pentacle, shot a quick "Avada Kedavra" at Voldemort, even whilst he struck Voldemort's heart with Godric Gryffindor's sword – watching the life slowly fade out of the inhuman body in front of the group.

They both reflected on the almost anti-climactic ending of such a bloody war; the slow trudging of the war-weary heroes through the many lifeless bodies that strew the field in front of Hogwarts; the moment they found Fred and George lifeless, each with a hand on the other's heart; the moment they found Snape lying in front of a group of hysterical first-years, having given his life to save the petrified students; the moment when Mrs.Weasley was able to hold her two youngest children in her arms, rejoicing for those that had lived; the moment when Harry was picked up by the Order members and carried back to the infirmary to be checked over. All of these moments' blips in time seemed like centuries ago. The survivors had retreated to the Great Hall to count their losses and regroup for the night, praising those that had lived and remembering those that had given their lives.

Draco hadn't gone, simply because he had no one he could truly rejoice with – except for the witch in his arms. He had betrayed his family by turning to Dumbledore for help against a maniac he had seen as not worth his loyalty. He had lost any chance at full forgiveness by having to almost kill the same man who had given him safety. His only redemption had been the witch in his arms. She had given him another chance after learning the facts. She had brought sunshine into his life again.

He began to kiss her hair, trailing kisses down her forehead, over her nose, and finally to her mouth – soft and pliant after the loving tears shed. She responded immediately, needing to reiterate that she was alive; needing the feeling of love that she had found only he could provide. He slowly picked her up and took her to the bedroom, pulling off their robes and other garments with a quick spell; he laid her down on the bed and quickly joined her. Crawling between her parted legs, he kissed the inside of her thigh, the curve of her hip, the tip of her breast, the hollow of her jaw and the shadow of her lip – light fleeting touches, arousing her as well as himself. Slowly positioning himself at her already ready entrance, he pistoned his hips, firmly seating himself in her warmth, just as her took her mouth in a passionate, soul-searing kiss. They participated in the oldest life-ritual, the dance of life – him thrusting, her rising to meet him; lips crashing; bodies thrashing – they finally met completion together, both shouting

"I love you!"

They lay resplendent in the aftermath – rejoicing in the simple touch that peace allowed them. As they drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a shared future, children, and the peace that would finally come to their torn world; a man shimmered out of the air cloaked in shadows, looking remarkably similar to the younger one laying on the bed, and murmured the same simple spell twice

"Avada

Kedavra."

* * *

Two graves in a small graveyard sat just next to each other. Each, covered in bushels of flowers which marked the memories of those that had survived them, was headed by a joint stone of purest white marble; stating

_Here lie Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy: two souls who proved despite the strong divide of separate backgrounds that true love can honestly conquer all in its way. United in death they remind all of us that we fought to regain peace that we all might live in love._

* * *

Somewhere on an island far-far away, an old wizard with long blond hair, whose life force slowly ticked away, was forced to watch himself kill his son and soul-mate - again and again and again.

* * *

Just a little plot bunny that was hopping around in the old attic ... apparently it was a little morbid ... ah well 


End file.
